Super Rich Kids
by aaronnnn
Summary: They are spoiled, they're beyond ignorant and they can get whatever their hearts desire. That's the way they present themselves. When the whole world thinks that everything is just one call to daddy away, they wouldn't want to show everyone the ugly side of their lavish lifestyles.


_Too many bottles of this wine we can't pronounce_

Kyle quietly sat back as he watched his friends pop open another bottle or liquor, they didn't even bother to pour it into glasses at this point. Well, they aren't his friends, he thought. They are just people who have the same problems as him. Listening to them was beyond exhausting and drinking was the only thing that made it bearable. Actually, when he was comfortably numb, they were even fun to be around. It's not like he could go and talk to other kids, he would rather stay in his own lane.

As he grabbed his own glass that still had a bit of liquid in it, his eyes ran around the whole room. His head was feeling a little light and he watched all of those pretty boys mingling with other pretty girls or boys or another way around. He wished someone would pay attention to him, he knew he wanted it. Hell, he deserved that someone pays attention to him. It felt bad when no attention was on him.

Strangers and his friends were spread around the house, a mansion that was left free for the kid to use for the weekend. He looked at all the tan models that were raising glasses and smoking everywhere and decided he had had enough. With a little difficulty, he stood up and left to get some fresh air, moving towards the terrace. On his way, he was stopped by a guy he hardly knew but somehow recognized and was asked if he wanted a drink. With impaired judgment he said sure, but before the guy could return he was off to clear his head.

It was a hot summer night but no different from others. Each day of this summer break felt the same even though it was only a week since it started. Maybe he'll find a way to entertain himself but that'll most likely last him ten minutes and he will be bored with it. Kyle decided to sit on a nearby bench and watched the water in the pool sit calmly. With shaking hands, he pulled out a cigarette, lighting it up and finishing the rest of his drink so he wouldn't have to worry about it. The silent moment was disrupted by someone sliding the door open and loudly entering the patio. It was Stan with some guy he saw before. He remembered his face but had no idea where from though. He tried to recollect whether they hooked up before or not because he seemed like the kind of guy to do so. Kyle's eyes fell on the guy's arm that was holding Stan's waist and he turned his eyes away soon because that was actually none of his business and his eyes watched the still pool once again. His cigarette was shortening until it reached the end, he threw it in the water and pulled out another one.

"Hey," someone drunkenly greeted him and sat on the same bench with a thud and he didn't even have to turn around to know it's Stan as the voice gave him away. He mumbled something back and his tipsy friend tried to make small talk but it was almost no use and they sat there in silence for a while. "What are you drinking?" Kyle asked for once and sounded as friendly as he could in this state and pointed at Stan's glass that he was holding by the rim. "Fuck if I know," he laughed and set the glass away, running his hand over his face to wake himself up a little bit. "I don't fucking speak French," Kyle's friend drunkenly mumbled and laughed at his own joke as he so often does. "But it gets me pretty buzzed so I see no problem."

Kyle threw another cigarette butt into the pool and stood up and the world got a little blurred for a second but then he asked Stan if he wanted to get out of there because he was getting bored and maybe wanted to feel a little excitement for once and maybe to push his luck to see where it'll go.

_Too many bowls of that green, no Lucky Charms_

Another day, another party. Kyle sighed at that thought, driving his car to Eric's house. It was late in the afternoon but the sun was still glowing and it was almost unbearably hot outside. That was last of his worries though. Stan was sitting on the seat next to him, blabbering the whole time but Kyle only caught a few words here and there. It was almost always the same, hook ups and parties and what not, not getting Kyle's attention in the slightest. He knew he did the same things except for Stan still tried to mask by his cheery voice and happy face that he was getting completely sick of it.

They arrived by the hill where Eric's house was, he opened the gate. The doors to his house were open and they could see a few people there, not as many as there was yesterday. They were still being very loud and Kyle knew that if he wanted to get out of here as a sane person, he needed to take something to calm down. Most of the group was concentrated inside of the house again as being outside was unbearable. Both guys mixed in with the group well, they knew most of the people. They sat somewhere near Butters but everyone was occupied, talking with whoever was around. It wasn't long before a joint was passed to Stan who took it without looking up who it was from, they were all familiar with this. Both took a hit and passed it back, Kyle lying down on the couch. The mood wasn't cheerful or relaxed, no one was laughing loudly or having a good time. It felt a little tense at times and everyone tried to distract themselves, by socializing and trying to induce that euphoric high they knew so well. It was one of the few things left that felt familiar for them, where some of them sought comfort. But as he was lying down, it felt like more negative emotions took over than positive and he wasn't the only one, he thought as he listened to the bits of conversations that were happening all around. "Yeah, he dropped out of school," or, "I think I've read somewhere that my parents were in England. Can't be sure though, it's just press," or "I love him but I think I just need something... more." It was all too much for Kyle and as he looked at Stan, he looked like he shared this opinion. He gave his resting friend a sad little sympathetic smile and got back to the girl who was talking to him. Kyle started talking to a girl, he guessed her name was Red. It was his old fling, they broke things off a long time ago but it seemed like they were still friends. He was zoning out here and there but still managed to engage in a competent conversation. She was somewhere in the middle of telling him about her boyfriend. "But then there's this Russian guy and he just makes me feel great," she complained and took a hit again.

"Then break up with the first one."

"But I love him! I think I could manage both." Kyle liked this girl, she was good fun. They still hang out when he's back in town. "This is too much. I need a line," Red groaned and stood up, making her way into the bathroom. He could use one too now that she had mentioned it. The only thought that comforted Kyle at this point was that everyone had it just as bad and the way they dealt with it was just as unhealthy.

_The maids come around too much_

He was back in his room again, after some time. The pills he took were slowly creeping up on his brain and he started to feel more and more sleepy until he eventually just ended up lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. No one was home, no one except the new maid his mother had hired. It seems like she had told her that when Kyle was under the influence of pills just to leave him alone and do as she normally would.

Kyle wouldn't mind but he felt miserable as he took the pills and now, for some irrational reason, he was angry at the whole world. His parents for treating him like a dog, for everyone around him having fucked up lives and making his like that too.

The sound of the vacuum whirming in the near room almost drove him crazy. The doors to his room were closed but as he heard them open, he pretended he was asleep. Today wasn't a good day to talk to him.

It occurred to him that his mother may have asked her to check on him when he was home, after a little incident he had. The maid was probably just doing what she was told, checking if he was still alive.

The new maid whose name he didn't know probably thought he was asleep as she entered and did as she would if he wasn't home. He was still pretending that he was asleep, but every little sound she made drove him crazy. It took a lot of will not to snap at that poor woman but he couldn't help how hypersensitive he was at that moment. She's left and then came in again and again and neither of those times he showed signs of being awake. He somehow managed to sit it out and wished everyone would leave him alone. He also wished that his own mother would check on him from time to time too.

_Parents ain't around enough_

It's been a while since what his father and mother were supposed to represent felt like a family. It was better when he was just a kid, either no one wanted to neglect a kid or he didn't care enough. He was a very spoiled child, he cared more about toys than the love of his parents but everything seemed to change once college came. He was studying something he couldn't care less about, just for the sake of having a degree and not disappointing his father.

Once Kyle left for college, the affection of his parents did too. He could've guessed earlier that this would happen, they used to be a pretty happy family, he was the only child. There were mom and dad and everyone was smiling until one day mom left. From that point on there was no more mom, instead, there was a new lady hanging on his father's arm every week. Kyle despised them, be it that they looked down upon him or tried so hard to make him like them. It could also be that his father cared more about them than his own son but Kyle quickly shooed away that thought, he didn't need the attention of a man who cared more about young chicks that his kid.

Kyle never knew why his parents' marriage failed. No one explained to him when he was little and he grew up not caring. His mother just left one day and that was the end of it. These days, staying with her was more enjoyable than being 'home' with his father. As little as she seemed to care, there was still something a little motherly about the way she talked to him. It was her who sat beside his bed in the hospital, hell, it was she who found him when he just had enough. What he wanted to remember were those moments when it felt like someone cared about him but his mind only took up on that one memory, when he saw her sitting behind the bar in their living room, holding a drink with one shaking hand and a cigarette in the other. It wasn't a sight he'd want to remember but it was one he saw way too often.

_Too many joy rides in daddy's Jaguar_

It was a miracle Kyle made Stan get dressed and go out. At first, it seemed impossible, but he kept nagging him for long enough for Stan to lose his nerves and get dressed, just so Kyle would stop. He wasn't in the mood and felt tired but did it for the sake of clearing out his head.

They were on their way to a rich-kid hotspot in the middle of the town. The sun was still out and so they didn't plan on doing anything careless, as they usually did. Kyle was just happy they were both sober and out for a good time, at least for once. He took some pills, hence him feeling like life may be okay. He parked the car and they sat in the garden of the restaurant. The sun started to set and the warm yellowish hue was embracing them, as they sat down and both ordered some wine. Neither of them knew whether they had plans for today evening or not, but the feeling of the warm sun and afternoon sun along with the drink was nice. Kyle felt like things might go okay for him and that wasn't a feeling he got often. He tried to embrace it as much as he could, a little something in him knowing that it was the pills and the world is still shit. It was hard, shutting that voice up but wine helped.

Before they knew it, they were back in the car, driving somewhere. Kyle didn't know where he was going but knew he'll stop once he gets there. Stan was sitting in the passenger's seat, obviously bored out of his mind. He could've talked to Kyle or whatever but he rather just stared out of the window. After a while, it started to get dark and he didn't want to look outside anymore. The evening always brought such a heavy feeling, it made him anxious when he thought too hard about it. To take his mind off things, he started playing with the car's radio. First few times, his hand was slapped away by Kyle but he eventually gave up, leaving Stan to do whatever he pleased. He started to switch up from one channel to another and before he realized it, they were speeding on the highway. It was a good road. It was smooth sailing until they saw a flickering light in the distance. It was a barricade, blocking one of the lanes, the right one. They wondered what had happened, something in them wanting to go slower, maybe even stop and check. It was sick of them, sure, to check out the victims, but they couldn't help it. It wasn't them, in the crashed car, they didn't take it as seriously. They had to go slower as they drove past the place where the accident took action. They saw firefighters and police, a burnt car that was flipped upside down and a few grieving people on the side, sitting down with their faces in their palms. There were paramedics, zipping up a back. That's all they had seen, before speeding away once again.

Stan never stopped switching the radio channels, up until he heard the name of the highway they were on being said. "...that's where a terrible accident took place, this very evening. We have our reporters on the scene, we're waiting for the news." Oh, it was already in the news, they both wondered. It didn't take long. One dead, three injured. That's what they caught off of the reporter's pointless rambling. Under the influence. The car flipped over, started burning. Didn't know who was the dead guy for now, since the others were still too shook to speak. It was just the usual stuff, Kyle wished Stan would just change the channel. Eventually, he did, but he kept going through them as nothing interesting was on. They passed the news channel again, nothing new about the accident. It left Kyle's mind while it wasn't on, he almost forgot about it as he drove.

Switch, switch, switch. It was the only thing that kept Stan from falling asleep, he didn't want to fall asleep right now. The news was back on once again, after listening to a radio show and then some music. The reporter was saying that the body found was a kid of a well-known real estate agent here in town and his heart rate went up through the roof. He just then remembered hearing the name Eric Cartman before forcefully shutting the radio up and stopping the car abruptly by the road.

_Too many white lies and white lines_

After sitting down with his family once again, Kyle was nervous and his hands were shaking. The effect of coke he took right before was almost gone and he felt like he needed another line at that very moment. If he was supposed to make it through, he definitely needed another one but he guessed that they'd suspect something if he suddenly came back, his attitude changed.

It wasn't a usual family dinner since his parents lived away now, it was near his birthday and he was forced to have this dinner now since neither of his parents had time on his actual birthday. The dinner was long gone and now they were just sitting in a quiet restaurant with glasses of champagne in front of them. If it won't be the coke, this may get him through. It was a long night of faking smiles to make everything seem fine, he did it, his mother did it and his father too. At the same moment, his parents hated each other and their son was high at a family dinner, quickly sipping on the champagne to get himself at least a little tipsy. Neither of them seemed to mind or neither of them noticed. He didn't know nor care.

"So honey, how's school?" his mother carefully asked, knowing that he's studying law just for the sake of it and couldn't care less about any of his classes. Hopefully, he won't have to use this degree once in his life, he relied on someone else taking over his father's business and maybe doing something he might enjoy. It didn't seem very likely. He just thought about how he barely passed most of his classes, most of them he finished just because he knew how to talk his way out of sticky situations. He was nearly expelled and almost quit, didn't show up to classes or was just high out of his mind most of the time. It was the only way could somehow concentrate and make it through. "Oh, it's going pretty well. I think I'm getting the gist of it," he lied through his teeth, looking down into his glass again. He learned how to lie as a young kid and he was damn good at it, it was his free 'get out of jail' card.

The conversation went on and the attention was on him once again. "You've got anyone at the moment?" It was his father asking this time. Kyle had to try very hard to keep a sarcastic laugh in. If only he ripped his eyes off those young gold-diggers, he would've seen all the people that went in and out of his bedroom. It was just widely spread around his social cycles, to have casual hookups, and he knew his parents wouldn't approve of it and that made it just that more enjoyable. He probably would've been called a slut or whatnot but he didn't care. He just thought it was so funny, the thought of his father having no idea he was getting railed just a few rooms away. He'd lose his mind if he knew, and that made it so much more satisfying. "Oh, I have an eye on this girl right now."

Then came the most sensitive topic, his mother asked him about his unhealthy habits as she called them, if he was done with that or not. Kyle wanted to roll his eyes at her, she could've just called him a cokehead, it wouldn't be the first time that had happened. Sometimes she just lost it and called him an alcoholic junkie but that was when she has had a few drinks too many and a few pills to calm herself down. He didn't take it very seriously, though the answer couldn't be that positive as he was still feeling buzzed talking to them at that very moment and neither of them noticed. "I'm clean now."

Maybe they knew that all he was saying was complete and utter bullshit but it was the simplest way out of this when two pairs of eyes were piercing him, expecting him not to be a failure that he is. Kyle suddenly felt like he needed to throw up and wanted to just disappear but something held him down to his chair. The way his parents sat there in silence yet acknowledged every mistake he has ever made made him unable to move but he knew he needed to disappear quickly. "Everything's fine," he whispered, not believing it himself and stood up with difficulties, searching for a little bag in his back pocket as he made his way into the restaurant bathroom.

_Super rich kids with nothing but loose ends_

If it wasn't for the fact that that they had already drunk a lot of wine and those people were their friends, neither Kyle nor Stan would've gone to this place. At this point, they weren't even sure in which part of the town they were but were a little too buzzed to care. Both handled their alcohol well though, they showed no signs and followed a few of their friends into the club. It was a new place for both of them, something different from their usual route but they were getting bored with the rich-kids clubs as they got too loud and annoying at times so this was a little thrill for them. "It's rad, you'll like it," Craig said and led the way, the rest of the group behind him. He was a distant friend they met by accident that evening and, they didn't even know how, ended up cruising the city with him and his buddies.

A strong smell of cigarettes and alcohol greeted them as soon as they stepped down the first few steps. It wasn't a great look, far from the polished bars they were used to. It was dark and hot in there and didn't look like somewhere you'd want to stay but for the heck of a good night, they both went in.

"What the fuck is this crack den," Stan mumbled and lit up a cigarette to calm down a little bit, he had a bad feeling about this. He wasn't sure about Craig being great company either but Kyle didn't seem to worry too much. In fact he didn't even look like he cared about what as going on, sitting in an old armchair, barely noticing the girl that was wrapped around him, whispering whatever. Kyle didn't seem like he was listening to anything she was saying, he pulled out a flask and took a swing, handing it to Stan to maybe shut him up or calm him down. Stan didn't care, he gladly took it. The rest of the group was somewhere around, but Craig seemed strange this evening. He just looked nervous and just looked unwell, with red eyes and always wiping his forehead. They didn't pay much attention to him however, as he wasn't their main point of interest at that moment.

Kyle didn't even notice when the girl excused herself and left, leaving them alone with a few other friends. It seemed like they were the only two in there not high off their minds but intended on changing that as Stan pulled out a little transparent bag and a tiny mirror, giving Kyle a playful wink. He heard that this was some good stuff, a really great batch. At this point, when this club was getting too boring too, he was excited to try it. Until it was passed to him, he looked around and tried to find Craig, maybe share it with him since they're pals for the night. He was nowhere to be found but the girl that had her eye on him returned, stumbling to her seat with a numb smile on her face. She threw herself down, looking blankly in front of herself. It seemed weird but as soon as Stan saw her dull stare and popped out veins, he gave Kyle a very worried look. They didn't like it here, not one bit but the tiny mirror finally found its way into Kyle's hands. With no hesitation and looking for a way to relax a bit, he took two lines in, breathing in deeply and rubbing his nose. It took little to no time for the coke to take effect and soon enough both of them were feeling it in their heads. Stan started tapping his feet unwillingly, suddenly he had way more energy than five minutes ago and the whole world just seemed a little better, this crack den too. They stared at each other for a while but couldn't hold their laughs in, bursting out into quiet chuckles still looking at each other. Kyle's heart started racing a little faster and he had a sudden urge to stand up and do something, start talking and just never stop. But before he could do anything about it, Stan was already up and Kyle felt his cold hand on his shoulder softly, telling him to come with him. He thought maybe they were leaving, going somewhere, anywhere since this place was getting boring too. But Stan wasn't going towards the exit, instead he moved towards the restrooms and Kyle couldn't lie, he was starting to feel a little excited. Maybe it was the coke, he didn't know. They had to walk through the whole bar though and it was quite the walk. "I feel like a million fucking dollars," Kyle sang and ran his hands through his hair, obviously in a better mood than before. Stan couldn't do anything but agree, suddenly not knowing what to do with all of this new found drive. He was brought out of his thoughts by the redhead singing along to the song some guy was performing on the stage with just an acoustic guitar. "Be what you wanna be," Stan heard him sing and turned back to pull him away from the stage. "See what you came to see," he sang along with his friend, pulling him closer and away. He caught Kyle's eyes being big with surprise and a huge smile on his lips. "Dude, I didn't know you listened to stuff like this!"

"I'm not that stupid man, it's a fucking classic," he laughed and pushed over the door to the restroom, freezing right where he stood. The light automatically turned on when he opened the door and his eyes automatically stuck to the body lying near one of the stalls. He felt his stomach being squeezed tightly, his heart rate going through the roof, he felt his heart somewhere in his throat. Everything in him shut down and he was unable to move nor tear his eyes away from the body. The only thing bringing him out of this trance was Kyle bumping into him with a giggle because he was blocking the whole doorway, eventually passing past him. However, when he saw what Stan was staring at this whole time, he took a few steps back and stumbled against a wall, almost losing his balance. It almost felt like this was way worse than finding the body when they were sober.

Kyle was absolutely startled, staring at the body and the splotches of blood that were everywhere around it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his friend taking a few steps towards it, then quickly turning and running into one of the stalls. All he heard then was retching and what came after but he was still in too much of a shock to care. His muscles were stiff and he couldn't stand up from the floor, shaking and sweating nervously. He didn't have his pills with him, he felt like he might faint any second, his breaths getting shorter and his stomach getting heavier.

After a little while, Stan finally came out, wiping his mouth and with a look of terror in his eyes. He looked awful, he felt awful too. That gave Kyle a little more courage, up until he looked at his friend and saw his glistening eyes and horrified look. He knew he probably had to be the brave one out of the two and so with all his might, he stood up and went over to the body, hoping not to throw up in the process. "Why would Craig... just-just what-t the fuck," Stan stuttered, sitting on the ground and leaning his back against the wall, trying to calm down but nothing was working. This was all out of control, it was terrifying. Kyle took a few steps closer, his eyes never leaving the boy's blueish face and lips until they reached his arm. His veins were popping up, they looked stiff and purple and there was blood spilled all around. "The-ere's a needle in... in h-his freaking neck," Kyle whispered, kneeling closer to him. Stan rolled his eyes in disbelief, pulling his knees closer to his chest to comfort himself a little bit. "Him too?"

"Man, what the fuck were we dragged into," Kyle cried out, panicking out of his mind. He tried to figure out what had happened here, but his mind wasn't able to think about one subject and so it raced from one to another. His head started to spin when he felt his knee getting wetter, just then realizing he was kneeling in a little pool of blood. His stomach turned and twisted but he managed to keep everything down. "It looks like he... he overdosed or something. Man, why is it in his fucking neck?" Kyle silently screamed, wiping his forehead and stepping away from the body. He couldn't take this much longer, it was too much. He felt a panic attack creeping up on him, his chest starting to hurt with every breath. "What's with all this blood?" he asked with an empty, shaking voice, not getting an answer for a while. "T-The thing, the needle, it could've been like cl-clogged and he like took a bit of-f blood to mix with that black shit he was sh-shooting up and..." Stan had to stop for a while to catch a bit of breath, he still had a hard time processing this. "And when he tried to like in-nject it, he c-culdn't -and he pushed so hard it fucking exploded everywhere," he spat out the last part out of him as quickly as he could, pressing his hands over his face to help him keep his emotions under control. It was no use but he was still panicking too much to cry. Craig's arm just wasn't taking up the drug anymore and in the moment of desperation, he rammed it into his neck, wanting to get some relief. Kyle backed up from the body, from the boy that has gone stiff. "Let's get the fuck out," he whispered to Stan with desperation in his eyes and he saw it, stood up a little unwillingly.

He wanted to help this boy, maybe just call someone to come get him out of here but what he saw in Kyle's face convinced him, opening the door and slowly walking out. They saw a few people walking towards the bathroom and felt bad for them, the sight they were about to see. Just as they were closing the door, Kyle heard some soft sounds, almost similar to snores coming from the bathroom. They came quietly and not regularly but he didn't have the will to turn around again, as much as he wanted to. He hoped the other people will help him. He just couldn't bare looking at that body again. On their way out, they were both quietly walking beside each other, neither of them daring to say one word. They were too shook to even look up from the ground.

_Super rich kids with nothing but fake friends_

It was fairly late when Kyle called Stan, telling him to get ready. He didn't know where they were going or what they were doing, he just knew he would lose his mind if he stayed home for one more minute. He sat near the pool and smoked half of a pack of cigarettes, he took a cold shower, he took some pills to calm down yet nothing distracted him enough from thinking about what has been happening. He felt like a used wreck, a damaged good maybe, he felt like something was wrong with him. No, no there can't be, he's doing just like all the other kids. They seem fine as if nothing's wrong. Maybe it was the way he was dealing with problems but it was the easiest way.

Yeah sure, he could go to that psychologist once again and talk about his worries and regrets but what help would that be. He'd rather take some pills that killed that feeling off completely and let people stomp on his spirit and heart some more. It won't kill him, it hasn't until now.

It was a night like every other, when he just laid there in his bed, sweating but refusing to pull off the blanket. It was the only thing at that moment that gave him some kind of comfort. He started to feel cold, his hands shaking and it was getting a little hard to breathe He was a total fucking disaster at this point. Only thing he came up with is to get out of this room, this house maybe even this town. He needed to do it, otherwise he might go insane. Kyle reached over and searched for his phone, thrown somewhere on his bed and called Stan. He was one of the last people he knew he could count on, the last one to handle his bullshit. The other ones proved themselves wrong, from what he had heard. No matter how much they smile into his face, no matter they drink wine and smoke together, once Kyle's back is turned, all the dirty shit comes out. He knew it so well, it happened with everyone and everywhere. One second they were just having a good time, then, let's say Red leaves the room and it takes the others no time to say she's been drinking so much lately, to say she's hooked up with just everyone around or that she fucked her way to college. It was all exaggerated bullshit mostly. Why they did this was oblivious to Kyle. Sometimes, he needed to get shit off his chest too but this was getting ridiculous.

He noticed that aside from that, there was not a lot of other topics these kids talked about. Maybe it was because they didn't want to talk about their parents' failed marriages, their therapy sessions or their drug habits. They tried to put themselves up there, above everyone else, kicking others into the dirt in the process. Kyle hated that, knowing they're fuck-ups just as much as he is.

_Start my day up on the roof_

"Do you think we're ever getting out of this shithole?" The sun slowly rose above the horizon of the city, shining a variety of colors onto everything it could. It was the nicest thing to see in this city when you sat somewhere high up and had the time to watch the sunrise at four in the morning. These kids did. They didn't wake up to go to the roof and watch, they just never went to sleep after a long night.

"You live in a fucking mansion, dude. This isn't that bad," Stan laughed at his companion, taking a lighter he had offered him and lit up a cigarette of his own, just as his friend did. He watched the boy beside him rub his tired eyes and run his shaking hands over his pale skin. Dark circles sat deep and looked prominent under his eyes, especially after a night like this. He was almost feeling sober, he didn't know about his friend. Stan turned back to look at him, as he sat near a cold brick wall, leaning his back against it.

Kyle looked at him with a blank expression, any sign of emotions vacant from his face. He knew whatever they were doing was ridiculous and stupid, but it was the only thing that made them feel like they somehow belonged somewhere. It got the best of him and now he felt like an empty shell walking around. He looked at Stan and scoffed, letting out a sarcastic laugh. The cigarette butt flew down when he threw it off the edge of the roof. He watched it until it became so small it disappeared. His eyes ran back up at his friend who looked as broken as him, just did a better job hiding it. Kyle shook his head, not believing his friend still has enough will and energy to go through all this shit. "It's as bad as it gets."

_There's nothing like this type of view_

It seemed like that night had happened forever ago, or maybe they just pushed it into the back of their minds so they could forget as soon as possible. No one seemed to give two shits, kids like him ended up like this all the time. If they didn't find him in that bathroom while on coke, they probably wouldn't think much of this. He wasn't that much of a good friend and it's not a rare occurrence. It had almost nothing to do with them, and that's how all of the kids at this party acted. Like a kid didn't just die a few days ago like they couldn't end up the same way.

Kyle was making his way out of the bathroom, stuffing a tiny mirror into his pocket and rubbed his nose, making his way back to his group of friends. They all looked like they were having a good time as this wasn't anything wild, just a bunch of kids downing champagne as fast as they could.

He came back to their table, pouring himself a glass of champagne too. The conversation was going over his head at this point, it was too late to join in. His eyes scanned Butters, an old friend, and he sat next to Kenny. The champagne was long gone and he grabbed the bottle, pouring himself another glass once again. "Yeah, she said she stopped relying on her parents' money. Brave gal," Kenny laughed and his eyes moved towards Bebe, a girl standing nearby. She must've heard her name being said, as she turned around and shot them a look. Kyle couldn't do more but roll his eyes, letting out a disgusted grunt. She used to be his girlfriend at the time before he left for college. He could say nothing more, just that it was a huge mistake. Every single moment with her, looking back at it, was a waste of time. Or maybe it was the fact every other guy came and left her bedroom. But the guys around his table stayed quiet, so quiet he could hear the conversation of Bebe's group. "I came back last week actually. It was amazing, helping all those kids." It was physically hard for him to listen to this, and probably for everyone else too. They knew well she stayed somewhere in a resort near and went to help once. It was painful. "That's so amazing! You are such a thoughtful person," one of her friends sang with a loud giggle, complimenting Bebe. She was used to this, everyone praising her about her work.

"It actually occurred to me while I was out there studying. My parents wanted to take care of everything but you know, I was on my own already." Kyle wondered how long can she talk about herself until people realize how self-righteous she is. "I couldn't stay here, everyone's always on drugs and drink it's just... ugh. Not my kind of society. Really, it's been so much better since I broke things off with my ex" she shook with pretended disgust and laughed, receiving more comments about how so jealous the other girls were and how good for her, and all that fake shit you'd expect to hear.

It was always the same, she went to Africa, she focuses on studies, she lives a clean life, she doesn't rely on her parents, she's better than everyone and she will let you know, she will talk shit about you behind your back. You can just see that in her face. At least Kyle did. She wasn't a bad person though, she didn't want to seem like the other rich kids and that was fine. It was just the way she did it. "God she's such a cunt," he moaned and threw his head back, hitting the back of the red velvet couch he was sitting on. This time she heard it and turned around at him with that look he just couldn't stand. He twisted back on the seat as he heard her cough to get his attention. "Kyle, if you've got something to say, say it to my face."

"I said you're a cunt," he repeated himself, not thinking twice. It was most probably the champagne speaking but he didn't care at this point. Seeing how she scoffed at him just made him want to continue. "You know, that's what you think and that is your problem," she deliberately answered him, flipping her hair back and taking a sip of her champagne. Ever since things ended between them, there has been some unresolved tension. "Yeah, yeah, that's some nice tough talk. So, how has telling everyone about your special self been?"

"You're fucking drunk," she scoffed, walking away. He saw her red-bottoms and her fur coat and it was beyond ironic, how she boasted about not needing her parents' money and being independent, breaking the stereotype. He saw her slip into the bathroom, reaching into her purse as she did. But there was no way of making her realize that they're the rich kids that get spoiled and get all they want and in the end, they end up dying from a heroin overdose. That's the way it is and that's the way the world sees them and there's no running away from that as much as they might want to. Keep your mouth closed and go with the crowd, that's what Kyle told himself and it worked sometimes. They're the rich kids who get high and drunk and then low and sober, always trying to make out something in between.

_Point the clicker at the tube_

Kyle parked his car right in front of Stan's house, knowing his parents won't be there. They never are, that's mostly why he turned out the way he did. That's why they all did. The gate was unlocked and so was the front door, Kyle knew he could just walk in and nothing would happen, Stan was used to this. He didn't mind either, he was alone most of the time anyway.

On his way up, he passed the living room, not a thing moved since he had been there the last time. Everything in this house stayed still, Stan wasn't even in the rooms most of the time. He passed the maid that was there sometimes, giving her a little smile and going up the stairs. She was a nice lady, very likable. She was always nice to talk to.

The door to Stan's room was open, it was quiet with the exception of a running shower. Kyle entered, making his way around the clothes that were thrown on the floor. It all made sense when he looked at the balcony that was facing the garden and saw the guy from the party a couple of days ago having a smoke there. He either didn't notice Kyle or didn't even care. He was the type of guy that was good for one night, and then you'd get bored with them. They were the pretty models at every party that has basically nothing to offer, aside from their looks or... whatever. Kyle didn't care, he just sat on the bed and turned on the TV that was hanging in front of him just to cancel out the silence. It was so loud, he needed something to cancel it out. He had no doubts that once Stan was out of the bathroom, all of the attention will go from that guy on the balcony to him and that stroked his already big ego. He laid down on the bed and noticed that the room had a different feel to it suddenly. Usually, it smells like cinnamon and spices, he could almost taste it on his tongue when he stepped in. It was different this time. He couldn't figure out why.

His train of thoughts was interrupted by Stan, stepping out, wrapped in a silky bathrobe. He wasn't even surprised he saw Kyle there, laying on his bed, he got kind of used to it. He rubbed his eyes and greeted him quietly, leaning against the frame of the door. "Hey," Kyle answered with a little smile, giving Stan a little look and then looking back at the TV. It was running in the background with no sound on this whole time, some news channel was on. He felt a weight shift beside him, it was Stan lying down and Kyle heard a little chuckle. He looked at his friend beside him and saw his red, irritated eyes. "Dude, did you just smoke a fucking bowl?"

"No!" Stan laughed and ran his hands over his face. "I'm just happy to see you," he sang.

"I think I'd see that," Kyle shot back, pulling on Stan's bathrobe with a laugh, getting a laugh out of his friend too. Neither of them noticed the guy who was smoking on the balcony entering the room, he caught their attention just when he took his jacket and bid them a good-bye. Stan only gave him a small smile as he was on his way already, Kyle not even looking up at him. Kyle's friend sat up, supporting himself on his elbows and looking around the room. "I don't remember it being such a mess last evening," he stated, standing up to pick some clothes up and throw them at the nearby couch. Kyle's eyes jumped from him to the TV and back. He lit up a cigarette, not bothering to stand up and go to the balcony. The whole room was smoked out anyway. "Maybe don't be so eager next time," Kyle snickered, puffing out a bit of smoke. He saw his friend give him an annoyed look while throwing a jacket at him. Kyle was a little glad someone put up with his bullshit.

_I prefer expensive news_

_New car, new girl_

_New ice, new glass_

_New watch, good times babe_

Kyle was never the one to stay occupied with one thing for too long. That included just about everything and anything. With the way he was living, he needed to change fast, as sticking with old things just made him remember the bad times. All of the times were bad at this point, that's why he jumped from one thing to another, to just forget and move on. He thought it worked, it was easy and worked almost every time, yet there were some things he couldn't change. He couldn't change the way he saw himself in the mirror every morning, he couldn't change the people around him, he couldn't change his family and he couldn't change the things that happened in the past. But he tried.

He tried going from one person to another, looking for something more. Every night was the same though. It was around this time last year, summer break and going from one party to another, as always. The mornings after were always the same too, he thought he met someone who he really clicked well with at the party and then, the next morning he woke up in their bed, not sure what had happened. Why did he ever think this was a good idea? Maybe because he was trashed and that always made him think that there might be something more in the world than fucked up lives and emptiness that he always felt. But once he woke up, he looked around the room, picked up his stuff and tried to slip out of the bed. He barely remembered how they even started the night before, he seldom knew the person. They were acquaintances, or whatever. Maybe they met for the first time at that party, it never mattered. At that point in his life, he was just so desperate for someone to see him as something more than just a snobby rich brat, he wanted someone to make him feel like a human again, not just an empty shell that gets thrown around all the time. It took him some time to realize how emotionally draining that was, he ended it but the consequences were still there and visible, how he detached himself from everyone, people who loved him and people who didn't. It hurt, but not as much.

His parents always tried to buy his love, they didn't know how to do it otherwise. That might be the reason why he is so hooked on material things at this point, a new car from his father meaning more than actually showing he cares. His parents realized that quickly, and never cared to change it. It worked, no one had any reasons to complain. Sure, he was showered with luxurious and expensive things whenever he wanted but was it really better than people actually showing you affection and love? Kyle thought so because no one actually showed that they cared. It was the only thing he knew, it was familiar and comfortable. No need to change something that isn't broken.

Kyle saw many people ruin their lives in front of him. It was mostly drugs, but that never scared him off of them. He saw people who occasionally started with a drink or two on a Friday evening and ended up taking shots before classes because they wouldn't be able to pass them otherwise. He saw people who started with weed, just to fit in with the crowd and ended up sneaking away from the party to shoot up, just to make the bad feelings go away. It numbed them and that was enough. It never made him quit, he always thought he was better than them. Maybe it never scared him because he couldn't stand the sight of needles, let alone injecting himself or he because he knew it would be even worse than just killing yourself. He would know, he almost did.

_It's good times, yeah_

"Do you think we'll ever be really happy?" Stan asked, flicking off the ash from his cigarette. It was late afternoon, the sun was already setting and waves of water were coming closer and closer, yet the sea looked so calm. He heard Kyle's scoff as he looked away. "Dude, you ask me that all the fucking time," he finally said with a laugh, laying down. He did, but it never bothered Kyle. His answer was always the same though. "No, we won't."

"But why?" Stan never let go, his little smile turning into a displeased frown. He wanted someone to assure him that there days of misery and crash downs were just a phase something that will pass and the sun will shine on them again and their lives will be normal again. Stan wanted to know why Kyle thought that their lives won't be happy, though he knew the answer. With a sigh, Kyle looked at him. "Do you know why I'm in a law school?" he asked him, his face stayed still but Stan could see in his eyes he was broken down again. Broken to bits.

"Because your dad wanted you to go?"

"Yeah. And do you know why I had to go?" Kyle's voice cracked, he felt the familiar tingling just around his nose but tried to stop tears from forming. For reasons unknown, this was a very sensitive subject for him. He hated talking about this but he thought that once he explained it to Stan, it'd be clear to him and he won't ask again. In the process, he lit another cigarette. "You didn't know what you wanted to do?"

Kyle sneered at him, looking away to hide his expression. "No. I knew exactly what the fuck I wanted to do." Pause. It didn't last long but the tension was so thick, it felt like it lasted half an hour. "But," he started and laid down on the concrete pier, they were sitting on the edge and droplets from crashing waves hit their faces. "If I hadn't done as my father told me to, I'd be on the fucking street right now," Kyle added with a bitter smile, throwing another cigarette butt into the water. Stan's memory was getting refreshed but only now did he put two and two together.

"I wanted to just play the piano as I always did," Kyle laughed. Now that he said it out loud, he realized how stupid it sounded. But it was the only thing that fulfilled him somehow and it was taken away just like that. It was the only thing he knew, knew how to do well. He never left the instrument, sitting in front of it for as long as he could. This was it, this is what he is going to do and he felt as happy as ever when he started seeing a somehow successful future in this. It was the only spark his life had had in the past years. And even though he was only happy when he could run his fingers over those black and white keys, it was all thrown away and spat on and stomped on by his father. It never occurred to him that he won't be taking over his empire, he had no one else to pass it upon. But it wasn't something Kyle wanted to do.

His father didn't care however, harsh words exchanged over this subject. He's out of the will, he's out of this house if he doesn't do as told. He's out of his life, he can pack his things and go, he won't be the one sponsoring a junkie artist in his house, that's how his father saw him. His son wasn't the one to get broken down so easily but at that moment he saw what his future could be like without the finances of his father. "You know, I was ready to go get my shit and leave the house, no problem. But... have you even fucking realized how depended we are on our parents? I did. Stanley, I don't know how to do anything, except play that fucking thing. Do you know how much I cursed the day I sat behind it for the first time?" He had to stop for a while and take a break from this emotional striptease. Why was he even telling him all this? To show him that not everything is just good times fun times? Stan knew that he was kicked around by everyone in his own way. But it seemed like no one realized that it's not all just having fun and being drunk on expensive wine. They could do everything and nothing, flying all over the world and having whatever they dreamed of served to them on a silver platter yet never doing what they truly wanted to do. Caged up but had to keep an obedient smile on.

Kyle wasn't the one to cry easily. Most of the time, he wasn't sober enough to do so, not sober enough to connect with reality. But he spent his days wiping tears non-stop when he realized what was at stake. Happiness or future, and he was set on pursuing a musical career. He told his father, he acted as calm as Kyle never expected. An hour later, his things were packed in a few suitcases, standing before the front gate of his house. Just then, it occurred to him what was really happening. All in all, he had nowhere to go, his parents were still living together at that point. Friends? They're your friends when you've got some coke on you. He was lost in the world and he hadn't even left the house yet. With his head hung low, he took in the suitcases one by one, leaving a filled application to law school on his father's desk. Not one word was spoken about this again.

_She__wash__my back three times a day_

_This shower head feels so amazing_

Hot water poured over them and it almost felt like their bodies melted together. Kyle didn't know where he started and ended, he had no time to care at that point. His hands ran through Stan's wet hair, pulling him even closer than he was before. He wanted him, he wanted every part of him at that moment.

Kyle never knew how they got here. Only clear memory left in his head was his lips leaving the bottle's neck and meeting Stan's. The wine spoke before he did, letting Stan push him against a wall and unknowingly running his hands up and down his friend's chest, it just felt right. It took just a few right touches and groans and they found themselves here. The shower on, hot, steaming water flowing down Stan's back as he closed the distance between their lips once again. Kyle couldn't bring himself to do much, his mind was in a different place, his thoughts were clouded with lust. He never saw this happening but once he felt his touch, his lips, he couldn't stop. He wanted to own every part of him at that moment, he wanted to be owned. He couldn't control it at that point, all that was left in him was this raw need.

Stan moved his hand lower, holding Kyle by his back and grabbing his face with the other. He pushed him against the cold shower wall, earning a silent moan. The heat from Stan's body and the coldness of the shower wall were almost unbearable, Kyle arched his back, tilting his head backward and felt Stan's grin against his lips. The other boy hadn't had enough of his lips just yet but pulled away, giving Kyle a little look before moving down on his neck. The sight drove him crazy, Kyle moving wet hair away from his face and breathing heavily, having flushed cheeks and the most inviting look on his face. He has never seen him like this. He held nothing back, knowing bites will get the best results, he has known Kyle for long enough. He was right, as he heard a throaty sigh being stuck in Kyle's throat. It was enough to almost make him lose control, he wanted to take him right there.

Kyle felt him slightly press against him, at that moment he quickly searched the wall he was pressed against for something to hold onto as his knees were getting weaker and weaker. He grabbed the edge of the shower doors, moaning into his arm to keep it quiet. He felt Stan bringing up his shirt that was now completely damp, hanging onto every part of his torso. He noticed Stan's shirt was already down and felt his hand find its way up his chest. No long after, his shirt followed Stan's and he felt Stan's bare chest against his. He never would've thought that this could make him crave his companion so much. He heard Stan mumble that he's a fucking piece of art, the phrase getting lost somewhere in the sound of the water bouncing off them and the walls. With that, his hand caressed his back and ran down, giving his bottom a strong grab, biting his lower lip again.

Kyle hated and loved the way this was going, enjoying and hating being so submissive. He has been thrown around his whole life, yet, there was nothing that got him to the edge more than belonging to Stan right now. He knew it'd be over once they leave the shower, that everything will go back to normal. He didn't mind but he knew he was under his control, for now, he'd do anything Stan would tell him to. There was just something about his presence, something that made Kyle want to just drop down on his knees. He was brought out of the trance by Stan's hand that played with the hem of his boxers, eventually slipping in and grabbing him loosely. Kyle couldn't keep all the noises in, he felt like he could just melt under his touch. His heart was ready to fly out of his chest, he looked into Stan's eyes and couldn't tear his eyes away, from his slicked-back wet hair, his dark eyes, strong jaw, Kyle's eyes followed the droplet that was running down Stan's nose, falling down in the end. His eyes were so full of pure desire, nothing more nothing less. Kyle loved the thought that he made him like this. Yongguk grabbed one of his wrists, pinning it over his head and Kyle obediently put his other arm up too, Stan pinning his wrists over his head. They never stopped looking into each other's eyes, Kyle couldn't stop himself from moaning that I'm yours, he said. You're mine, Stan repeated with a smirk.

The rest of their clothes was long gone, Kyle felt hotness embracing him as he looked down and ran his hands through Stan's hair. He was his, he thought but that thought was soon driven away as he felt himself getting deeper and deeper, surrounded by warmness more and more with each stroke. Sweet moans were escaping his lips, he couldn't nor wanted to keep them in, encouraging Stan in what he was doing, gripping Kyle tightly and moving back and forth, trying to make him say his name again, there was something about the way he said it, so erotic. He loved it, he wanted more. He wanted all of Kyle, every single bit of him, Kyle was his until they left the shower, until then.

_We'll both be high, the help don't stare_

_They just walk by, they must don't care_

Stan's bed was fully occupied, he and Kyle spread all around. It was a big bed too. Stan laid across the bed, Kyle's head resting in his lap. They were both quiet, staring up into the ceiling and occupied with their own thoughts. Kyle's irritated eyes forced him to blink a few times but still took the joint from Stan and took a long hit. It made him cough a little but was well worth the feeling after. He let it sink into him, exhaled slowly and passed the blunt back. He felt himself getting more and more relaxed, his eyes never leaving the ceiling. "Shouldn't we at least like close the door?" he asked Stan, looking up at him. He shrugged nonchalantly, blowing out a cloud of smoke. "No one's home anyway."

That wasn't completely true. The maid was there but Stan didn't even take that into consideration. She was there most of the time, it was almost like she was invisible. She seemed nice enough and eventually, she grew up to not care and do only what she needs to. There were times when she cared and was genuinely worried about Stan when he came home high out of his mind or under the influence. She was there to check up on him when he was sick when he felt bad when his mind wasn't in a good state. She was there to wipe his tears, she was there not out of necessity, just out of sheer will. She cared more than his parents did at that point. He didn't know if that just seemed like normal behavior or whatever but there wasn't one time when they were worried. Was he wrecking himself because he wanted them to care or wanted to forget about the fact that they didn't?

There were times when he's come home in a bad state and got a lecture from that woman, she thought she could maybe push some sense into his head. It lasted for way too long, she tried and tried until eventually, she gave up. He didn't do anything too dangerous, was always able to walk back to his room. That was enough for her, what he does with his life is his worry now.

It sometimes was hard to look at. He could have anything he ever wanted. He had the looks, he was charismatic and smart, he could go far. All of the doors were open for him yet, he chose this. It blew her mind, how he never realized all the opportunities life had offered him. He had everything served in front of him on a silver platter but despite all that he chose to do this. She stopped worrying because well, his parents didn't. They were never there, they probably didn't even know what he was doing. Was he still in school? What is he going to do with his life? They didn't know because he made them learn not to care, slowly distancing himself. They thought that if there was something wrong he would tell them or at least get some help himself. Yet, they were wrong.

Stan wasn't ready to think of all this, even if the weed was doing its work. He felt better than he had in a while, but it still wasn't much. It still sucked, just a little less than before. Maybe, just maybe, he wanted someone to care. He should've closed the door, he thought. Why didn't he do it? He saw the woman walk by, carrying some flowers into a room nearby. Both guys were still laid across the bed, Stan's eyes following the woman. He wished she'd care as she did before. That's why he didn't close the door. Hoping she's looking into his room again and cares. He wanted someone to care. Anyone.

_A million one, a million two_

_A hundred more will never do_

"Didn't you say you crashed your car?" Kyle questioned his friend who came to pick him up from a little get-together he had with his old friends. In front of him was parked a new shiny car that he had never seen before but he didn't care much and sat on the passenger's seat. Aside from Kyle and Stan, two guys were sitting in the back. It took him a little while to recognize them but that attempt was quickly postponed when one of them handed him a lit up blunt, no questions asked. Grabbing it and taking a hit was more of a reflex at this point than something he wanted to do, he still enjoyed it either way. He didn't like these guys though, he knew the stuff they did and didn't like it. He knew he was a spoiled fuck-up too but this was too much even for him. He wanted to get out of that car as soon as he could but instead kept a nice smile on, pretending that this is kind of a well-spent evening, wasting it with plain ignorant assholes.

"Yeah no, I totally did but I had nothing to do this evening, you know?" That only answered half of the questions Kyle had but he didn't seem to care anymore. He felt lighter and a little smile crept upon his face as they speeded thought empty streets late at night. Traffic lights were irrelevant at this point since little to no people were on the streets. Kyle kept zoning out, but bits of the conversation that was happening in the car got to him. It was just empty talk, nothing he could contribute to.

"I don't even remember her, man. Is she like the goth chick from that bar?" one of the guys in the backseat asked.

"Yeah, for sure."

"Than yeah, I hooked up with her."

"Dude, almost everyone did," the other guy said and got a little laugh out of everyone. This is how it always went.

Kyle was getting bored with this. He tried to block out the guys in the back "Whose car is this then?"

"Oh, I took my dad's."

"Does he know?" Kyle laughed and glanced over at Stan who was barely paying attention to the road. He saw him take a deep breath, "He hardly knows he had a kid. Why should he care?" Stan looked at Kyle with a laugh but Kyle saw it fall down as soon as his eyes drifted back at the road. There was even a little sadness in the way he did it. But Kyle knew how it felt, and understood why Stan was so cynical about it. What else was there to do.

They talked about their new watches, about all the girls that came and left, they talked about going under the knife, they talked about college and they talked about their parents' money. They talked about everything. They talked about how they got their cards canceled, completely lost without them. About how sometimes, what their parents give them is not enough. At the same time, the money their parents gave them went straight up their noses to make this world seem bearable. They didn't know the value of anything and didn't care, they didn't have to.

Before he knew it, they parked in front of a busy looking club and both guys left the car, Kyle almost didn't notice. Maybe it was the weed, maybe he was overthinking way too much again. But he didn't seem to care, as Stan soon stepped on the gas pedal once again and cruised through the streets again. It was a late night and it was still very dark and very lonely. Kyle watched the traffic lights and neon signs cast colors on his face and everything around, it was nearly blinding. He didn't care where they went, it was none of his worries.

_Real love, I'm searching for a real love_

It was always the same. Kyle always tried to fill in the void in his lonely, delicate soul with something that didn't belong there. It was exhausting, trying to find love where there was none and he so desperately needed it. He hasn't given up just yet.

At first, he was delusional about what to expect from his parents. At first, it hurt when they didn't have the time. He took it so badly when they just told him off, told him they didn't have the time. It left a hole in him when they were never around. He needed to fill it with something, desperately. Close one nostril, breathe in with the other one, feel like you're on top of the world. That was the daily routine and for now, it worked. No more did he feel like his parents neglected him, he didn't care that it almost didn't feel like they were his parents at all. He loved the world and the world loved him, the nights seemed better than ever before. That's how he filled the hole after his parents.

There weren't many people that he could trust and rely on. There were none. He used to think there were, people who cared and people he could believe. Just then he realized how naive that thought was. You're born alone, you die alone and it seems everything between is loneliness too. It took him some time to realize that but once it started, it never seemed like it'd stop. He realized how badly people treated him, used him and then threw him away. It was fucked up, realizing that and then having to smile into those faces the next day. And so one by one, he started cutting people off. Not completely, he kept a positive attitude on the outside, but what happened inside of him was a disaster. All in all, he just wanted to protect his heart.

Bebe was his everything for a while and he gave her all he had. He showered her with attention, took her out and partied, had a good time, made love, drank champagne and lived the teenage dream. It was all he could ever want, he felt complete for a while. But once he left, he wondered whether it was the drugs and champagne that made everything seem lovely and made it seem like real love. He wasn't sure, his delusions were crushed when he came back, however. It was just casually told to him, not even by Bebe. Apparently, she felt too sorry about that. It seemed like all he had and gave was not enough for her. Kyle didn't know whether it was the coke or if he fell out of it too, but at the start, he felt nothing. But the hole she left in him started making itself harder and harder to ignore.

In a desperate attempt to fill it, his weekends ended with him being on cloud nine, on a couch in a blissful dream with some guy he met at the bar. It could be his friend, it could be one of those pretty models he met at the party, it could be whoever. They changed every time, leaving him jumping from one person to another, hoping to find a special bond somewhere. He never did, his heart slowly falling apart by all the holes left behind. It crumbled, yet all he wanted to do is find real love somewhere. Anywhere.

_Close your eyes to what you can't imagine_

_We are the Xanny-gnashing_

_Caddy-smashing, bratty ass_

_He mad, he snatched his daddy's Jag_

_And used the shit for batting practice_

_Adamant and he thrashing_

Kyle's car was parked right in front of Stan's gate. There weren't any more places to park behind it since his parents came back. It was a rare occurrence, seeing them home for once. It almost felt strange to Stan, like they didn't even belong to that house like they decided to just leave it some time ago and now came for a visit. They didn't live there anymore, it felt like. By the looks of it, he couldn't guess whether they weren't bothered by his overall state or just kept a stone face on. It bothered him more than it should. It seemed like they still believed that he was in school, regularly seeing a therapist, being clean, whatever was the most comfortable. He just couldn't believe that they'd still think he lives like that while they're away. Were they really that oblivious?

They weren't home, they left for a movie premiere. He'll be seeing more of them on the red carpet somewhere in the news than in real life. Sure, they asked him if he wanted to come but it sounded like it was more out of necessity than they really wanted him to come. As much as he may have wanted to, he declined and stayed in. He was used to being alone in the house anyway, he liked it more that way.

He always had issues with them. And Stan almost forgot about that, until they came back and got on his nerves right away. He didn't know why it was just unbearably annoying. The way they had something to say about every little thing he does, it worked just fine when they were away. Why do they suddenly care how he lives? Do you still take your pills? Were they his fucking doctors? Do you still hang out with those burn-outs? Oh, if only they knew. How's school? Will you at least get a diploma or whatever? Hopefully.

He recognized his father's judging look and he hated it. He hated being critiqued, as he believed everything he did was done in the right way. Maybe that's the only way in which he resembles his father. The temperament they couldn't keep under control. And that's when he lost it, seeing the judgmental look in his father's eyes. He let all of the things he has been keeping in flow out, talking about how he hasn't seen his doctor for three months, how they'll probably kick him out of school, everything, everything. He told him it's their fault, how he grew up to be. He didn't stop, he couldn't. But his father only raised an eyebrow, telling him it's his life choices. That took Stan back a bit, he expected more of a response. He wanted more of a response, not this, was he seriously not going to say a thing about it?

Now he was sitting by the main doors, letting cool summer air calm him down but it didn't work. He saw Kyle approaching him, playing with the car keys that were in his hand. He called him a little while ago, hoping he'd get him out of this mess. He dreaded being alone and feeling like this. "Whoa, what happened here?" Kyle asked with a little surprise in his voice as he looked at the car that was parked in front of the house and the broken front light. It was an expensive car, he could tell. The reflectors were totally smashed, windshield too. It all came together when he saw the baseball bat lying nearby. "In short?" Stan laughed and lit a cigarette, hoping it'd calm him down. "I'm a spoiled brat who smashed daddy's car because he called me out on throwing my life away," he laughed, looking down with a little shame in his look.

Kyle understood, yet didn't know how to help him. All he came up with was give him a little smile and pat his back. There wasn't much more he could do but saw that Stan needed to calm down. He saw how nervous he was, the way he tapped his feet non-stop. Stan couldn't help it, he just wasn't able to sit in silence and do nothing. Kyle didn't know what to do about this either, other than just pull out a cut-out piece of a metal plate, about six pills. A few of them were already popped out, Stan knew Kyle used this on daily basis. Despite that, he took it into his hand and looked at the back, asking Kyle what it is and looking for a name.

"Xanax," he simply said, lighting up a cigarette too.

"Yeah, I've been told I should take this," he laughed and popped out a few more pills, swallowing them dry. It was about three, but he has never taken it before and didn't know how he'll react. He didn't care at that point, he guessed whatever he felt would be better than this.

_Purchasing crappy grams with half the hand of cash you handed_

_Panic and patch me up_

"Dude, what happened to Butters?" Kyle asked Stan, closing the passenger's door behind him, trying to calm down. Yet another party he had to leave because things were getting a little out of hand. He wasn't the one to spoil the fun but that was too much even for him. He had his fair share with cokeheads but when he opened the bathroom door and it smelled like burning rubber, when he saw the pair of strangers slouched down and gripping a tiny pipe, he knew it was time to go. This never happened before he left for college, all the kids were just hooked up on wine and weed, however, seems like that's not enough. Seeing it made him remember Craig, making his stomach twist and turn until he eventually had to drag Stan out of there to calm down a little bit. He just needed to have someone beside him at this moment. Something similar happened yesterday, he left in a similar manner.

He heard about it before, never seen it happen though. But it seemed like something was wrong with Butters, however, no one paid attention to him. It wasn't something that was worth their attention, after all, he was just sitting on the couch, curled up his eyes skipping from one person to another. It wasn't until too late that they realized he's having a bad trip and panicking so bad. Kyle knew he was one of Stan's closest friends, he was the only one to approach him and try to calm him down. Kyle didn't have the guts to sit there and watch it, he was long gone. The last thing he saw was the utter desperation in Stan's eyes when he tried to bring Butters out of it.

"He... was on some bad shit," Stan mumbled, obviously not wanting to talk about the whole situation. It hurt, it hurt him a lot. Kyle could see it but he was more curious than sorry about what had happened. He still lives, doesn't he?

"Like what the fuck was even going on?" he asked Stan again and saw as he gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. Stan wanted to kick him out of his car at that very moment but something in him told him that talking about it may help. "I... don't even know what he took. It was just laced with some bad shit and... and he thought he was going to die and for a moment I believed him there," Stan scoffed, his eyes turning away from the road for a second. Kyle saw his eyes glisten, he saw him bite his knuckle just to keep it all in. "It was so hard to get him home, I thought we wouldn't make it, really. Dude, he almost stopped fucking breathing on that seat right there," he said and pointed at where Kyle was sitting. Realizing that, he started to feel sick. It didn't even occur to him how bad it might've been. But all he saw in front of his eyes now was Butters, holding on to the last bits of sanity he had in him. Stan gripped the wheel even tighter, his knuckles turning white. "Just because he bought some bad shit," he whispered, choking up all the feelings inside him.

There was a moment of silence before Stan spoke again. None of them knew what to say so they just stayed quiet, wishing the ride was over already. "I went to check up on him today," Stan finally broke the heavy silence sitting between them, with a much more quiet voice now. He couldn't believe how hard it was to talk about this but did it either way. Before Kyle could ask how he's doing now, Stan continued. He opened his mouth and tried to say something but everything got choked up inside of his throat, the cries, and the words. The only thing that was ready to come out were tears, he didn't want to break down in front of Kyle so badly. "I... I wasn't ready."

"Ready for what?"

He saw a single tear roll down Stan's cheek. It glistened in the shine of every car and light they passed, making itself very visible and prominent. "I came in and he never fucking responded. I don't even know if he knew I was there with him but I just sat on his bed, next to him laying there. He had some pills on the table, I don't remember what they were but it was some... pretty heavy shit. I finally woke him up and..." he stopped for a while wiping away the first and then the second and the third tear. "He rolled around and looked at me with the dullest eyes I've fucking seen. He looked like a walking corpse with just... bags under his eyes and pale skin and sunken face, I just couldn't believe it. Turns out, his dad gave him those pills. He's like a surgeon or whatever and they use it after operations. Can you fucking understand that? He'd rather hook his kid up on some pills than get him some help. Look what it made of him. He couldn't answer one fucking question properly, just mumbling out words, not even being able to sit up properly."

That's where he stopped but didn't continue on. He didn't tell Kyle about how he tried to wake him up from this state, grabbing his hands and noticing the soaked bandages around his wrists. He didn't tell him about how he broke down at that moment, asking Youngjae what is going on. He didn't tell him about Butters looking into Stan's teary eyes with his empty ones. 'I can't go on,' he heard him whisper. He never let go of his weak, cold hands that he was holding. He told nothing of that to Kyle and he was left with nothing when Stan stopped the car and broke down. He was only left to guess and try to soothe him, wiping away every tear that came.

_Pappy__done__latch-keyed__us_

_Toying with Raggy Anns and Mammy__done__had enough_

_Brash as fuck, breaching all these aqueducts_

_Don't believe us_

_Treat us like we can't erupt, yup_

They were alone in Stan's house again. Everyone else has left, leaving a mess behind but that was tomorrow's worry. Right now they were sitting in the backyard, near the lake that was behind it. It was a chilly summer night but it was cooling off the heat they felt from the drinks. It was a nice feeling. Judging by the looks of it, it seemed like it's going to be a long night.

"How did you react when your parents divorced?" Stan asked his friend suddenly, as he laid on the ground with a cigarette in his hand. His mind was so lost he forgot to smoke it, letting it all just burn down. It's been a very rough few weeks on Stan, Kyle knew and this was a strange question.

"It never felt like a family in the first place," he mumbled, shrugging his shoulders. It was almost like nothing had changed for him, he thought he took it well. But the way he destroyed himself bit by bit every day told otherwise. Stan always admired Kyle when it came to this. How well he took it, how it didn't even seem like a big deal to him. "Why?"

"Mine are splitting," he tried to say casually, choking up on words in the process. He tried to seem as nonchalant as possible, not to show how much it was actually eating him up from the inside. "My dad fucked around with so many girls my mom snapped yesterday evening. Couldn't go to sleep for hours," he laughed, throwing away the cigarette butt and watching it drown in the water.

Kyle looked at him, as he was peacefully laying on the ground. "Happens to everyone," Kyle stated, trying to get a bit of reaction from Stan. It seemed very strange, seeing him this calm in a situation like this. "You seem to be cool with it though."

"I'm not, really," he laughed, putting his hands behind his head.

"Why though? Had to come sooner or later."

Stan sighed deeply, trying not to lash out on Kyle. His cynical options had a place and time and this was neither. What he was looking for was a little bit of comfort, not a statement that his parents' marriage was bound to fail. "You don't fucking understand," was the only thing he had the energy to say. "How so?"

So many things passed Stan's mind why so. Because his parents were never really together because he was used to being left alone because he didn't need comfort and closure as he did. Because he didn't just almost watch his friend commit suicide and then act like it's no big deal because he isn't dropping out of school because his life isn't crumbling down. There was no point in explaining all that to Kyle, he wouldn't understand anyway. He wouldn't even try, brushing it off, saying some things just happen. "Because it's the only thing that made sense in my life at this point," he whispered, words stopping on their way and lip up yet another cigarette. He felt like he's going to explode any second. Every emotion in him has been boiling, it's just too much to handle. He didn't know where to let it all go, nothing helped, no one helped. It had to come to this at one point or another. At this point, he felt like a time bomb and didn't know when he's going to explode and cause some damage.

_We end our day up on the roof_

_I say I'll jump, I never do_

_But when I'm drunk I act a fool_

It's been long two weeks and Kyle was happy they were over already. Tomorrow he's flying back and the day after that he's back in college. It was a refreshing though, changing the surroundings for a while. However, these two weeks opened his eyes a little more. Not even in his dreams, he thought about the kids with popping veins and dull looks. About how many alcohol bottles could be opened in one evening. About how shallow and spoiled and desperate for attention, everyone was, about how he wanted to distance himself from them as much as he could, despite being the same as them. About how everyone's fighting their own demons and how no one cares about that, how empty and hollow everyone was even if they wanted to look like they're on top of the world. He never thought about that until he sobered up here.

For a moment, he was glad that he was gripping a bottle and without any hesitation took another sip. He lost count of how many bottles of wine they opened this evening, it didn't even matter. It was all about how it made him feel, it dimmed down most of the feelings. He was grateful or that. Kyle leaned against a cold, stone wall and his eyes laid in the city. It looked so much different at night than it did at sunrise. He liked that sight. He liked looking at the shining lights and pretty colors that spread all across the city. They had a good view up here.

He looked to his right, seeing Stan slouched down by the wall, hugging his knees close to his chest. His face looked peaceful, despite all that has been happening. He didn't talk about Butters anymore, or about his parents. He didn't talk about anything that worried him but he still looked so so calm and mellow, like he didn't have a single worry on his mind. Maybe it was the wine, maybe something else, he didn't know.

They snuck away from some kind of a formal gathering, they didn't care. Bebe came with them. Neither of them complained, she was a good company after all. They just had to wait for her to climb up the stairs that led to the roof. She was sitting there too, looking over the city. Neither of them spoke a word, each drowning in their own thoughts.

He felt his head spinning, in fact, the whole world seemed like it was spinning. From left to right, the lights of the city were getting blurred. It felt soothing, it felt like it was right. Everything else in the world felt like it was wrong, he felt like his whole life was wrong but sitting out here, with the whole world spinning around you felt very right. He felt like the city was calling his name. To come and get lost.

He was drawn to it, or maybe he was more drawn to the edge of the building. Wouldn't be the first attempt, he shook his head and looked at the two drunk kids next to him. Just as lost as he is. Whatever. He stood up, stumbling back a little bit as his own feet betrayed him. "Dude, how high do you think this is," he mumbled, stumbling over to the edge. All rational thoughts were thrown out of his head, flying down off of the building. He just wanted to get over to the edge, look down at the city, sit down and take it all in. "Pretty fucking high."

But he felt like there was something more dragging him to that corner. Something in the back of his mind that yelled 'go there, check it out first,'. It was the same thing that was screaming every other day too when he forgot his pills. That little, yet a roaring voice that reminded him of all the shit he went through, these two weeks. It reminded him of coming back to a place he hated with his whole heart, it reminded him of Stan, of Bebe of all the people he lost along the way, of his hopeless attempts at finding love, at trying to be happy. It reminded him of how hopeless he is and how ignorant of it he was trying to be. It was something he couldn't run from, as much as he tried to shut that voice up. It was yelling. He tried everything, everything he could but nothing helped. It was still there, making itself known. He hated it. Going day by day was hard enough without something telling you-you're all alone in this fucking world, not worth a bit of love. It was hard and looking at that edge, he finally saw a way to shut that voice up or good.

"What if I just jumped," he asked his companions, looking back at them as he stood close to the edge, his eyes running from the street below to his friends and back. Maybe he just wanted to see their reaction, maybe he wanted them to talk him out of it. He didn't know yet. He said it with a wicked little smile, actually laughing at this idea. His intoxicated mind found it funny. He saw Bebe roll her eyes, she was saying something but that was just white noise, his eyes were planted on Stan who didn't say a word, instead just looked at him but there was something more behind that look. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. What did he see in his eyes? Was he judging him? Was that desperation? Understanding?

"You're insane."

"You say that every time we are here," Bebe laughed it off, standing up and going over to Kyle to throw her cigarette butt off of the roof. He knew he did and just now realized how pathetic it is. He always talks about it, never having enough guts to do the deed. Pathetic. He didn't have enough courage to kill himself, yet it slipped out of his mouth so often without him noticing. He agreed with her quietly, looking down in shame and put his hands on the ground to push himself up, trying to stand up. But the ground under his feet seemed to disappear, the whole world twisting and spinning again, pulling him down into the streets.

_Talking__bout, do they sew wings on tailored suits_

His eyes glanced down at the street. It looked so inviting when he was sitting on the edge but now the ground under his feet seemed like it disappeared, it seemed like a haunting, dark world. He wanted someone to come and save him, from this and from his life too. To protect him and just pretend like nothing ever happened. He wanted to grow wings and fly away, far away and start out brand new. But was it really worth it? Is he worth it? Kyle didn't know. What he knew was that all he did was waste his time here. Living in the lap of luxury, yet feeling like there are so many things missing. What was he doing with is life? Going to a school he didn't want to, yet having his parents pay big bucks for that.

Wandering from person to person, looking for someone who could show him what love is. Who won't throw him away like a used toy?

Desperately searching what happiness is like.

His dreams lost in the abyss.

Addicted to cocaine.

Taking pills to stay awake and taking pills to go to sleep.

Drinking, trying to drown his demons.

Being a spoiled brat, wanting to get but not wanting to give.

His parents buying his love because they didn't know better. Yet, he had none to give.

Being tied to people who ended up losing their lives.

Destroying himself in just about every way he knew and could. Harming his soul and body, and along with that, everyone else around him. So was he really worth saving? Is there a way for him to escape the pain and problems he brought upon himself?

Is there a way he could escape?

Is there a place in heaven for a kid like him?

_I'm on that ledge, she grabs my arm_

_She slaps my head_

_It's good times, yeah_

_Sleeve rips off, I slip, I fall_

He felt a strong grip on his arm, jerking it away from him. His mind was too lost to comprehend what was happening. He just felt the grip and then heard fabric tearing, sharp pain as he landed on the ground of the roof. He felt rocks scraping his knee, his hands and his face, ripping his suit and flesh. He was lost in the moment, lost in what was happening.

There was a moment of complete silence for a while. He felt as little drips ran down his face and his knee started to get wet, sharp pain slashing him and the world going out of control once again. He tried to figure out what had just happened. He looked up at Stan first, seeing an absolutely terrified look in his face, trying to hide it. "Kyle, what the fuck," he heard as he was trying to stand up, not going over the edge this time. The moment he looked up, he saw Bebe's face too, her features curling under the utter horror. Sharp pain in his cheek followed, her palm slapping him, bruised cheek or not. It hurt like hell but he knew he deserved it. Despite that, it felt like someone cared for once. "You could've fucking died," she whispered, tears in her eyes on the verge of falling down her cheeks. That's when he realized it. He really could've been down on the pavement right now, not being it for Bebe. He could've been dead by now.

He took the last bits of his strength, standing up with the last bits of dignity he had. It felt strange, he wasn't so scared anymore. The scared expression didn't leave either one of their faces, still too shocked to even more. Just then he looked down at his bloodied knee, dirty hands. The sleeve of his suit ripped, hanging onto the last bits of fabric. He kind of felt the same. Before he could do anything, his eyes just followed Bebe as she abruptly turned around, making her way of the roof as fast as she could.

_The market's down like 60 stories_

_And some don't end the way they should_

_My silver spoon has fed me__good_

Kyle caught Stan looking down. Was he shielding himself from seeing Kyle fall from the roof? He couldn't care less. He saw that he had finished the bottle already, staying quiet the whole evening.

Silently, he made his way to him and sat down, just inches away. At this point, he already forgot that his face was stinging like hell, his suit was ripped and his pride long gone. The night was coming to an end, the darkness outside was slightly diluting, turning a lighter shade of blue. It was a nice sight. "Kyle..."

"Yeah?" he answered, acting as nothing had happened. Looking calm, as if he hadn't almost fallen off of a roof. He looked at the spot where he hit the ground, a bit of blood stayed there. It was scary for a moment but he couldn't say he really fought it, hanging over the edge. As much as he was safe for now, the edge was still calling his name. It was almost impossibly hard to resist it. He wanted to come closer once again, maybe to try his luck or to finish an unfinished job.

He heard Stan sigh, looking at him with tired eyes. "Why... does stuff like this keep happening?" he whispered quietly, hugging his knees closer to his chest with the look of a scared puppy. "What do you mean?"

"Like... all this bad stuff," Stan slurred, leaning against the cold brick wall behind him. It was quite painful, seeing him like this. Most of the time, he was the one pulling Kyle out of his deep shit.

Kyle didn't know how to answer the question. What did he even mean by it? Probably meant how they saw Eric crash and get zipped up in a black bag. Maybe about how they left a guy on the bathroom floor, maybe about how his parents were splitting and he thought it was the worst thing in the world. Maybe he was talking about never meeting their parents' high expectations, despite doing the best they could to please them. And what did they get in return? Lost dreams and bright views of their unwanted futures? Yeah, sounds good to him. Maybe he was talking about how superficial and selfish everyone around was, yet everyone wanted to find just some love and compassion. He couldn't deny that he was one of those people. Always expecting to get everything and anything. He wanted more, more, he wanted everything. Most of the time, he got it. Yet, he always felt as empty as ever. Sure, it made him feel happy for a while, but that never lasted. "Maybe it's what we deserve."

"But why? What have I ever done to anyone?"

"Nothing." They have done nothing. They have done nothing good, nor nothing bad. He couldn't remember the last time he helped another person, just because he could. Maybe Stan, but what was his help? Pulling out a bag of coke just because he didn't know what else to say. He was his closest friend, and even then he couldn't bring himself to do more. But this doing nothing was draining him, not a single good feeling resting inside him. All he could feel mixing inside him was despair, anger, depression, all things he knew well, too well. It was eating him from inside, biting its way out and he was starting to feel it. Not being able to drag himself out of a bed without popping a pill, sucking up a line or whatever. There was just no will, no energy otherwise. Resisting the feeling to just take one pill to many, or in this case, get just a little too close to the edge again. It was very hard, he stopped seeing a doctor and honestly, at first he didn't see a difference. He didn't help him in any way. But at least then, he didn't want to just disappear.

He felt the heaviness lingering over him. The same feeling when he couldn't get out of bed when he forgot how to be a functioning young cokehead. He wanted to just be gone, to fucking die alone, whatever came for him. He knew everyone had their demons, didn't care to help anyone deal with theirs. No one helped him, anyway. And erasing himself from here seemed like the easiest way to just deal with his issues.

He looked at Stan. With three questions, he managed to give him existential anxiety, but he didn't have anything near to help him calm down. Nothing. It was all coming too fast, he felt like a truck had just hit him. It pinned him to the ground.

His eyes lingering on his best friend, he wanted to just curl up inside of his arms and let him soothe him down, tell him everything's fine. He knew he couldn't do that. He felt emotionally bankrupt. He heard his name being called again, louder and louder with each thought.

_A million one, a million cash_

_Close my eyes and feel the crash_

Slowly but with a little more sureness now, he stood up again. His legs were still a little shaky, from the accident and alcohol too. He didn't mind. He held the wall so his head would stop spinning. Stan looked up, he caught his eyes looking at him, this time they weren't as scared as before. It seemed like he had done some thinking too. All that came their way, they deserved it. Every single little drop of it was rightfully theirs. The absence of their parents, their dead friends, and their fucked up lives. All theirs to enjoy.

It took Stan one good look into Kyle's eyes and he saw what he was currently going through. How much he was suffering under the weight of his own intrusive thoughts. It hurt him. Every second of it was tearing him apart. Stan saw it, Stan understood it. Still, he didn't know how to help him. That was all Kyle's responsibility. And he knew it.

He flashed Stan a weak smile but it told him more than any word could. He saw that Kyle has had enough, he saw how much strength it took him to lift the corners of his mouth up. All he could do was smile back.

Kyle saw that encouraging a smile, he appreciated it. He got the feeling that what he was doing wasn't the worst choice, it gave him a little bit of courage. When his head was in the right place again, stable enough so he could take a firm step, he turned away from Stan, stepping closer to the edge once again. Just one step, but it felt like a piano note in him rung all throughout his body. He took another step, another note. His heart beat in unison with the piano singing inside him, it felt very nice. Another step, he was taking it slow. Another one, another one, just until he was by the edge of the roof, just two steps away.

He felt very calm for a second. The piano went silent. He was happy that he wasn't going to die alone. He wasn't afraid to do, maybe a little scared of what comes after. He was there with someone who was always by his side, encouraging every decision, even this one. He knew whatever was wrong with him, wasn't a problem that would get solved over the weekend. He believed it couldn't be fixed and became just too much to handle. He was waiting to do this. Nights were getting harder and harder, he wished it would just all stop. And this was the moment when he could stop it himself.

He turned around once again, giving Stan the most genuine smile he had given in years. It was like saying thank you for all you've done, for keeping me here long enough and good-bye, I guess you could say it's better off this way. It was the most sincere thing he could give, just a simple thank you.

It meant more to Stan than anything could. He knew that nothing he would say would change Kyle's mind. All he could offer back was just another smile. An understanding one. He could never judge him for his actions. He could never. Even after all that, tears built up in his eyes, he didn't even try to hold them all in. He just let them flow, seeing Kyle's eyes do the same. It was a strange, intimate moment. He was saying good-bye to the closest thing he had.

Kyle was overwhelmed by the moment. He felt like this was the right thing to do, he knew it. After his vision got blurred and the corners of his mouth unwillingly jerked up as he looked at Stan, he turned around again, facing the city. His heart went crazy again, he felt it trying to burst out of his inside. A tear dropped from his cheek, bouncing off his torn suit. And then another. And another one. Before a fourth one had the chance, he closed his eyes and he took a step and then another one until there was no ground below his feet.


End file.
